Chapter 2
Ty
“You sure you’re up for this?”
The Vertex Dynamics building loomed ahead, all glass and steel, trying its hardest to look important.
Two hours from Rocheport to St. Louis wasn’t exactly a scenic drive, but at least I’d had Ben and Jolly for company.
From here, they’d be catching a ride to the airport.
Ben had another assignment on the East Coast that actually sounded interesting. Unlike mine.
The next two weeks were going to be boring as shit.
“Your shoulder—” Ben continued from the passenger seat, Jolly’s head wedged between us from the back.
“Is fine.” I rolled it for emphasis, ignoring the pull of healing tissue. “Nothing taxing about this job. Stand around, look intimidating, make sure nobody steals the quantum whatever-the-hell.”
Ben shot me a look that said he wasn’t buying it. “Fine. But you know if Ethan and Logan find out you’re taking an active mission without medical clearance, they’re going to lose their shit with you.”
“What active mission? I’m watching a bunch of scientists play with computers. The most dangerous thing that’ll happen is someone spilling coffee on a keyboard.”
“Famous last words.”
Even Jolly gave me a look that said I was a dumbass.
I pulled into the parking structure, noting the security camera placement. The field of view on that old tech left plenty of room for improvement. “George said it was routine. Simple. Boring, even.”
“George also looked like he hadn’t slept in three days.”
Fair point. But sitting around Rocheport for another month wasn’t happening. The wound had thrown me off more than I’d let my family know. More than I’d let anyone at Citadel Solutions know. Six weeks of nothing but my own thoughts and uselessness?
Anything in this building—even utter boredom—would be better than that.
We parked and climbed out, me grabbing my gear bag while Ben opened the door for Jolly. The dog immediately went into work mode, nose to the ground, tail straight. Even off duty, the Malinois couldn’t help scanning for threats.
“Let’s do a walk-through,” I said. “Get a feel for the place before you have to leave.”
The building itself was standard corporate architecture—trying to look cutting-edge but ending up generic. Keycard access at the main entrance, security desk in the lobby. The guard barely looked up from his newspaper as we walked in. Great start.
We did a circuit of the main floor, noting exits, checking sight lines.
The elevators required keycard access for the upper floors, which was something, at least. But the stairwells were standard fire exits—locked from the outside but not the inside.
Easy enough to prop open if someone had the right help.
“Security’s not terrible,” Ben observed as we headed up to check the other floors. “But it’s not great either.”
“Corporate standard. Enough to keep out casual troublemakers, not enough to stop anyone determined.”
The lab itself was on the third floor, behind another set of keycard doors. We didn’t go in—no point contaminating their clean room environment, especially with Jolly shedding everywhere. But through the reinforced glass, I could see people in lab coats moving around expensive-looking equipment.
We headed farther down the hallway and saw a door leading to separate stairs marked Rooftop Garden.
“Check it out?” Ben suggested.
“Sure.”
The rooftop had been turned into some kind of wannabe urban garden—planters with flowers, a few benches, even a pint-sized greenhouse squatting in one corner. And two security guards on a smoke break.
The younger one spotted Jolly first and tensed. “Hey—no dogs allowed up here. No dogs in the building at all.”
“Service dog,” I said easily, flashing my most disarming smile.
“What kind of service dog?”
“He’s trained to detect bullshit.”
Ben made a strangled noise that could’ve been a cough…or a laugh he was trying not to choke on.
The younger guard blinked, not quite catching on, but the older one—mid-fifties, grizzled, ex-military written all over him—straightened and snuffed his cigarette like it was personal.
“You the guy the FBI sent?” His voice could’ve given frostbite.
“Yeah. Ty Hughes.” I offered my hand. He didn’t take it. “Just familiarizing myself with the layout.”
“Raymond Wilmington. Head of security.” He said it like he was announcing a title fight. “Already told Alex Richards we don’t need outside help. My team can handle this building just fine.”
I kept my face neutral, professional. This wasn’t my first rodeo with territorial security personnel. “I’m sure you can. I’m just here as an extra layer for a couple weeks. Not here to step on toes.”
Raymond’s jaw worked like he was grinding gravel. “FBI thinks we’re mall cops who can’t handle real security.”
Ben shifted subtly, putting himself in a better spot if this went south. “If it helps, I think mall cops are underrated.” Jolly’s ears pricked at the tension, but he stayed quiet.
“Look,” I told Raymond, “I get it. Nobody likes outsiders coming into their house. But we’re all on the same team. I’m not here to make you look bad. Honestly, I’m probably going to be bored out of my mind for the next two weeks.”
The younger guard had backed up a step, clearly not wanting any part of this pissing contest. Smart kid.
Raymond finally yanked a keycard from his pocket and tossed it at me. “Gets you into the common areas and the lab’s outer reception. Anything else, you go through me. And keep that mutt out of the clean zones.”
Jolly was too well trained to growl. I wasn’t.
“Something this important belongs—” I made a show of riffling through my wallet “—right between my Social Security card and my Imo’s Pizza loyalty punch card.”
Raymond snorted and stalked off. The younger guard trailed after him.
Ben shook his head. “You and Mr. Sunshine there really hit it off.”
“I know. And I’ve been looking for that punch card for ten purchases now. Should be due a free pizza.”
“Free pizza’s a noble cause.” Ben checked his watch. “Speaking of noble causes, Jolly and I should leave before you try to make more friends. And so we can catch our flight.”
We headed for the lobby without mentioning the obvious—Raymond Wilmington was going to be a problem. Not necessarily dangerous, but the kind of guy who’d rather eat broken glass than admit he needed help.
At the garage, Ben loaded Jolly into the rideshare. “Watch your back, brother. I know you think this’ll be easy, but—”
“I know. Nothing’s ever as simple as it looks.”
He gave me a little salute. “And try not to get shot again. My sympathy quota’s full until next quarter.”
“No promises. I like keeping you on your toes.”
After they left, I headed back inside, taking my time getting familiar with the layout.
If I was going to be stuck here for two weeks, might as well know every corner of the place.
The second floor was mostly offices—accounting, HR, the usual corporate departments.
The fourth floor had conference rooms and what looked like a small cafeteria.
I made my way back to the third floor and the lab’s reception area. Wilmington’s keycard got me through the door to find a small waiting area—a few chairs, a water cooler, and a desk that was currently unstaffed. Beyond that, another set of doors led to the lab proper.
The reception area was a disaster. Papers scattered across the desk, three half-empty coffee cups in various stages of cold, and what looked like someone’s lunch abandoned on one of the chairs. I was about to head back out when the door burst open and a woman rushed in, muttering to herself.
“Where did I—no, that’s not—come on, I know I left it somewhere—”
She was wearing a blouse that had seen better days, her auburn hair escaping from what had probably started as a neat braid. She dove behind the desk, rummaging through drawers while keeping up a running commentary to herself.
“Not there, not there—why do I have so many pens that don’t work?—oh, that’s where that went—”
She hadn’t even noticed me standing there. I cleared my throat.
She shot up so fast she banged her head on the open drawer above her. “Ow! Oh—I didn’t—are you—” Green eyes wide behind slightly crooked glasses, she stared at me like I’d materialized out of thin air. “The lab’s not—we’re not doing tours today. Or any day. We don’t do tours.”
“I’m not here for a tour.” I gave her my most charming smile, the one that usually put people at ease. “Ty Hughes. I’m working security for the next couple weeks.”
“Security?” She blinked, then started patting herself down like she’d lost something on her person. “Nobody told me about—did Alex approve this? Because we have very specific protocols about—”
The phone on the desk started ringing. We both looked at it. She made no move to answer it.
“You going to get that?” I asked after the fourth ring.
“What? Oh. No, it’ll go to voicemail.” She went back to searching, now checking her pockets. “They always call back if it’s important.”
I raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Interesting approach to reception work. The woman was now checking under papers on the desk, still muttering to herself.
“Can I help you find something?” I kept my voice light, friendly. She seemed wound tighter than a spring.
“A pen. I need a pen. I had one. I swear I had one, but now—” She spun in a circle like the pen might suddenly appear. “This always happens when I need to write something down immediately.”
She was kind of adorable in her frazzled state. Her blouse had what looked like coffee stains, maybe chocolate, and something that might have been mustard. The glasses kept sliding down her nose, and she kept pushing them back up with an absent gesture that looked automatic.
“Hey,” I said gently, trying to catch her attention. Maybe it was her first day or something. My heart went out to her a little bit. One thing I understood was being overwhelmed. “Take a breath. You’re doing great. It’s going to be okay.”